Chapter 8:Two Tickets to Paradise

The Wet Spot was alive with chaos, the thrum of synth-pop pounding against the walls as bodies pressed together under the pulsating neon lights. Val, the queen of the bar, was the picture of effortless sensuality, commanding attention as she worked her magic behind the counter.

Her snow-white-skin, a rarity in this town, gleamed under the lights, her toned arms moving with a dancer’s grace as she mixed drinks and bantered with the crowd. Her glossy cherry-red lips curved into a perpetual smirk, and her piercing green eyes held a challenge no one could quite meet. A cropped tank top tied just beneath her generous, perky breasts bared her toned stomach, and her cut-off shorts clung to her shapely hips like a second skin, showing off legs that seemed to go on forever.

Tonight, she was over it. Over the endless leering gazes, over the ridiculous antics of the bar’s patrons, over the constant grind of being Bikini Week’s most coveted bartender.

And then, a whispered legend reached her ears: a drink called Paradise Pass.

They said it wasn’t on the menu, wasn’t even real. But if you made it, and if you drank it, you could escape. Escape Bikini Week, escape the endless grind of serving up debauchery, escape the never-ending parade of fake smiles and exaggerated flirtation.

Val was intrigued. And she was desperate.

Reaching beneath the bar, she pulled out a series of rare and glowing bottles, each one shimmering with an unnatural light. Her fingers moved with precision, pouring, mixing, shaking, her caramel skin gleaming under the flashing lights as she worked.

“Careful with that one, sweetheart,” came a low drawl from the corner of the bar.

Val’s head snapped up, her green eyes narrowing as she spotted Pearson leaning against the bar, cigar in hand. He was as slick and smug as ever, his tailored suit hugging his broad shoulders, the glint of his gold medallion catching the light.

“You again,” Val said, her tone flat, unimpressed.

“Me again,” Pearson replied smoothly, his smirk sharp and knowing. “I couldn’t help but notice you’re trying to whip up something special. Something dangerous.”

Val rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to her shaker. “I don’t need your input, Pearson. Don’t you have some poor girl to harass?”

Pearson took a long drag from his cigar, exhaling a plume of smoke that curled lazily in the air. “I’m serious, Val. You don’t know what you’re messing with. That drink—”

“—is my ticket out of here,” she interrupted, slamming the shaker down on the bar and fixing him with a glare. “And I don’t need advice from the guy who runs half the sleaze in this town.”

Pearson’s smirk faltered, replaced by something almost like concern. “That drink doesn’t give you a pass out! You think you’re escaping, but all you’re doing is throwing yourself to the wolves.”

Val scoffed, grabbing a tall glass and pouring the shimmering liquid into it. It glowed like a sunset trapped in a glass, swirling with hypnotic colors. “Spare me the cryptic warnings, Pearson. You’re the villain here. Of course, you’d want to keep me stuck.”

“Villain?” Pearson’s voice dipped, his smirk returning but tinged with bitterness. “Yeah, maybe. But even villains get tired of the same old song and dance.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “This isn’t a game you want to play, Val. Walk away.”

Val’s jaw tightened as she stared him down. “You don’t scare me, Pearson. And you sure as hell don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Before he could respond, she lifted the glass, the glowing liquid catching the light as she raised it to her lips. “Here’s to my escape,” she said with a defiant smirk, and then she drank.

The liquid was cool and sweet at first, sliding down her throat like silk. But then came the heat—a rush of fire that spread through her body, making her toes curl and her breath hitch. Her skin tingled, and her heart raced as her vision blurred slightly.

Pearson stepped back, exhaling heavily as he ran a hand through his slicked-back hair. “And so it begins,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Val blinked, trying to steady herself, but the heat in her veins intensified, radiating outward in pulsing waves. Her skin seemed to glow under the neon lights, her caramel tone taking on a faint shimmer.

The first touch came from her right—a hand brushing her bare arm. She turned, startled, only to find another hand sliding over her waist, then another grazing her thigh.